


10th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [10]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood, Body Worship, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Pet, Pegging, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shimadacest, Stuck in a wall, Tentacle Sex, Victim Blaming, Virginity Kink, Watersports, Yandere, forced impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 10th Batch of my fics





	1. McCree/Hanzo + Genji/Hanzo

**Author's Note:**

> McHanzo + Shimadacest – stuck in a wall; molestation; slightly yandere!Genji, maybe yandere!McCree – Hanzo gets stuck during a training session and Genji seizes the opportunity.

“Stop grinning and help me out,” Hanzo hisses, a vein swelling dangerously at his temple. Jesse is standing with way too loose a posture, Peacekeeper dangling precariously from one finger. There’s barely any sweat darkening his training fatigues; they’ve basically just begun sparring with the others before the wall had come crumbling down, partly burying Hanzo beneath it.

He squirms, impressive biceps bulging as he tries to push himself out of his predicament, but it is impossible the way the rubble is cinched around his hips. One of his legs seems to be stuck as well, ankle caught in the rubble.

Jesse keeps smirking but wisely refuses from making any smart comment.

“You alright?” he drawls, finally putting his weapon away. Hanzo eyes his own practice bow, lying on the floor in the dust. It looks to be unharmed at least.

“Yes. Now come here and…”

He trails off, eyebrows pulling into a frown. He could swear there’s been a touch to his… Hanzo jumps, when it happens again, this time firmer. Unmistakable: A hand palming his ass.

He flushes a dull red in angered indignation, shoulders pulling towards his ears while Jesse watches him in mild interest.

“Who is that?!” Hanzo barks, trying to crane around – as if that would allow him to see who has snuck up behind him. The hand jerks away for a second, but a moment later it is back, palming him, squeezing his ass while he sputters, lost for words.

Who would…

“Help me out of here!” he demands, imperiously thrusting his arms towards Jesse who just watches, bushy eyebrows climbing his forehead. When he does not move, Hanzo elaborates between clenched teeth: “Someone is… someone is _touching_ me!”

Jesse whistles between his teeth.

“Someone’s got balls. In the middle of an exercise…”

The hand is starting to boldly pull down his tracksuit pants. Hanzo’s breath stutters. He tries clenching his knees together to try and salvage the situation, but one of his ankles is still stuck and the person behind him has the clear advantage.

“Help me out of here, you big oaf!” he roars and McCree rocks back on his heels, head tilting to the side.

“How ‘bout a ‘please’?”

.o.

Trust McCree to make it difficult. Maybe if Hanzo wasn’t such a bitch all the time, he wouldn’t be in this situation… but maybe Genji should be thankful about his always-prissy older brother.

Bastard.

Especially for making it so damn hard to get a good look at his tight ass. No wonder Genji has to seize every opportunity to get his hands on it. If only Hanzo were a bit more generous with showing his body off.

Let Genji record him lathering up in the shower, paying awkward attention to his immaculately groomed pubes. If he were just a little bit less of a selfish bastard, maybe Genji wouldn’t have to resort to dirty tactics.

Like assaulting him in the middle of a training session when he really can’t be blamed for taking the opportunity to get his hands on his older brother.

He does not tease himself by moving as excruciatingly slow as possible. He would like to, of course, but he’s not sure how much time he has. McCree can be a stubborn mule but if Hanzo cries desperately enough he might be swayed to complying either way.

Genji has Hanzo’s pants down in a moment, mouth going dry as he realizes how naked he is beneath. What a slut. Freeballing it while looking like he’s king of the world…

Genji palms Hanzo’s ballsac. On the other side of the wall he can hear his big brother raging. His free leg is jerking, trying to kick out, and Genji easily catches it and bends it up, pinning Hanzo’s knee to the side of the partly crumbled wall.

With his other ankle caught in the rubble, he is deliciously immobile and open. Like this, his ass cheeks are spreading and Genji can get a look at the dark slit of his hole.

Fuck, but he’s looking nice. Genji is recording, trying to blink away the perspiration gathering on his forehead. It is slightly fogging up his visor but he can’t open his helmet when he needs to catch every little second on camera.

He twists the hand cupping Hanzo’s sac and presses his thumb rudely against his hole. On the other side of the wall, Hanzo sounds like he’s choking on his own tongue.

Genji bites his synthetic bottom lip. He pushes his thumb in rudely on no slick at all, and the big muscles in Hanzo’s thighs flex but he’s become curiously quiet as Genji fucks him on his thumb, testing the give of his hole.

It becomes unbearably hot in his chassis as he feels out his big brother’s silky insides and the desperate clench of his dry rim.

He barely hears McCree’s “Alright alright… let me have a look who’s fucking around with you…” and jerks his hands back reluctantly. He stumbles as he makes his escape, just about managing to climb his way into the rafters.

When he glances down, McCree is standing behind Hanzo’s naked lower body, one hand on his ass, and eyes trained on Genji. They mutely stare at each other. McCree’s gaze flicks to Hanzo’s ass, thumb pulling his cheek to the side to see the flushed red color of his rim.

He looks back up at Genji who can’t do anything but just sit there and stare, then grins pointedly.

“Aw shucks, Hanzo. The guy’s already gone. Who could it have been? But say… where’s your underwear, buddy?”


	2. Endeavor/Hawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Hawks – fantasies; slight homophobia/Endeavor really trying to deny the obvious; rough sex – Hawks is very open in his appreciation for Endeavor’s body and while Endeavor likes to pretend it does not phaze him, the reality behind closed doors is different…

Working with Hawks has done ton of good for Enji’s confidence; even though he admittedly does not need any help in that regard. Hawks is lewd and outgoing and apparently has no sense of shame.

He wonders, sometimes, if that’s just how the current youth _is_. Whether Shoto behaves with such flagrant disregard for modesty as well when his father’s heavy gaze is not on him.

But, he supposes, maybe Hawks is just an exemption for he seems to be exceptionally infuriating; his gaze lingering on Endeavor’s body with nothing short of greed; appraising him openly and throwing him toothy grins when Enji pointedly stares at him, waiting for the young man to realize he’s been caught in his lewd, disrespectful ogling.

Hawks does not care about fanning Enji’s anger, and, in turn, his flames. He does not care about the softer and more firm rebukes, just takes them in stride and with a flippant “Right on, buddy!” before resuming staring at whatever feature of Enji’s body has taken his fancy this time.

Most often, he has noticed, those sharp eyes seem to linger on his thighs and chest, of all places, and he finds himself wondering just what it is the young man wants from him.

Enji is not unused to lecherous attention, though most of the time it is focused on the prominent bulge between his legs; the cup protecting his cock in the midst of battle. He can see their little imaginations working, trying to figure out just how big he is; just how gratifying it must be to have him mount them.

He pretends that Hawks’ obnoxious staring means little more than annoyance and a mild distaste to him, but in reality, he’s been thinking about it to an extent of obsession. He finds his mind wandering during meetings; listening to reports from his Sidekicks without really tuning in to what they update him on.

He finds himself circling around the peculiar focus Hawks’ obsession has taken. How scenarios might develop if he were to indulge the kid. Show him just how powerful his thighs can be when he wrestles him to the ground and feeds his impertinent mouth his cock while squeezing his head between his thighs.

God, but he’d love nothing more than putting Hawks in his place. Finally shut his quick, gloating mouth up by stuffing him first with dick and then with cum until it shoots out of his nose and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Have one big hand in his untidy hair and keep him right where he is; choking on Endeavor’s sweaty cock and head feeling like it is going to explode from the pressure.

Enji would maybe be taken aback by his borderline violent fantasies if that weren’t how he’s always fantasized. How even in his youth all his needy, hot fantasies have included a sharp, maybe disturbing edge of pain.

No, what really takes him aback is how insidiously his fantasies tend to warp on him without fail; how his mind wanders from putting Hawks in his place; big hands on his wings, using them like leads as he pulls him back onto his dick, to Hawks being the one ranging above him. Having Enji’s ass in his meager lap, his young, sleek cock pushed into the tight, unused heat of Enji’s ass, and drilling him hard and deep.

How he’ll use his feathers to keep Enji immobile and helpless, their sharp quills dragging across his body, leaving burning lines in their wake that have not broken, but only _just so_.

Enji has never considered submitting to anybody – certainly not another man – and his thoughts tend to disturb him in no small amount…

…after he has spend himself all over his fist, lungs still burning with the exertion of a simple jerk-off, cheeks feeling as hot as his flames when he thinks back on his hot, needy fantasy that would put a younger man to shame.

Would put _Hawks_ to shame.

How much he wants to dick him into submission; have him cry on his cock until this unsightly infatuation has been fucked out of him. Until his curiosity is sated and he finally knows, without a doubt that he does not want to pursue his sick little fantasies with the number one hero.

… And how much he wants to get put down by Hawks in turn. Wants him to belittle him, step on him, make him ache and weepy without mercy. How he wants to be used like a cheap harlot and then thrown away afterwards. How he wants to be bested by this impudent young man that could very well be his son…

He is aware of his sickness, but he can not help it. It has been a long time since his wife, and his hand is a very lonely, dispassionate companion. He can’t just go out to take himself a lover; he is too distinct, too easily recognizable.

All he can do is feverishly fantasize about getting mounted and fucked by another man like a mangy dog on the side of the street. It shames him more than his other fantasies. How desperately he wants Hawk’s cock. How desperately he wants it in him. Stretching him. Warming him.

Using him like a rag before flitting off to his next lustful encounter because Hawks is young and virile and lewd and wouldn’t let himself get slowed down by a washed up old man like Enji.

He thinks Hawks might brag to his other conquests while Endeavor has to fall back onto his own hand. How he got to fuck the number one hero. Pop his cherry, as they so indelicately put it these days.

How he made him howl on his first dick and pant for hit like a dog.

The fantasy turns Enji on all the more. Sick.


	3. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – beta!Hanzo; Omega!McCree; slutty McCree; humiliation; belittling – McCree is a sloppy whore and Hanzo can appreciate that after some struggling.

Hanzo has his arms slung around McCree’s sturdy hips, his face smearing between his shoulder blades as he gives it his all, fucking into him fast and sharp until his crotch and the tops of this thighs are wet with slick and lewd squelching sounds are filling the room.

Despite his desperate humping, McCree does not seem much more than vaguely entertained, however. He has his head pillowed on his thick, hairy forearms; off to the side so he can still nurse on his cigar.

His insides are feverishly hot around Hanzo’s cock, muscles butter soft and hugging his dick, and it makes him nearly go cross-eyed. As a beta, he’s never had an opportunity to fuck an Omega. Most are not particularly interested, and his sex-drive is not the highest anyway, but this…

McCree had offered, casual as always, his positively fat thighs falling open ridiculously easy. Showing himself off to an appalled Hanzo whose first instinctive reaction had been to decline despite the obvious and instantaneous bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s come around quickly enough, however; asking McCree through gritted teeth if he’s still up for the offer, and McCree, true to his usual easy-going nature had simply grunted and rolled onto his knees, pulling his own ratty pants down.

Not very romantic, but definitely appreciated. Hanzo got the feeling that he’s not the only Beta McCree had let mount up. He probably could’ve been used as a show pony in front of a class for all Hanzo know. He would’ve enjoyed it,too… in his own lazy, roundabout way.

Through his own panting, loud and obnoxious and a bit ragged sounding, he almost misses McCree sighing. His muscles shift as he stretches beneath the Beta working away at him, then turns his head a bit and grins at him around his cigar just as sloppily as the hole he’s offered up.

“Damn, love ‘em Beta dicks,” he drawls (infuriatingly calm, still, barely a blush on his cheeks), and before Hanzo can even start to preen he continues: “Could fuck a dozen before getting sore.”

Hanzo’s hips stutter, cock surging despite the immediate explosion of indignation in his chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hisses, pushing himself up so he can stare down his nose at the Omega. McCree does not seem alarmed at all. He simply lets his knees slide apart until Hanzo’s cock slips from the loose mess of his hole and he is comfortably on his belly.

Apparently being up on his knees has been nothing but a courtesy to Hanzo hanging onto him and rabbit fucking away.

“Nothin’,” he yawns. Hanzo can see the side of his face; relaxed and calm despite his cock being at least nice and fat from the Beta’s ministrations. Hanzo is grabbing at his dick – drenched in Omega slick – and staring at him dismayed until McCree relents and mutters: “They’re sleek. Takes a while until you even feel ‘em. But they make a nice burn happen.”

Anger and humiliation burns through Hanzo’s veins as he lets himself fall on top of McCree. It is not difficult for his cock to find the butter soft slit he’s offering up so generously – whorishly – to just about any dick that’s walking his way. He does not even have to guide it in; it slips into McCree as easy as anything, and Hanzo would like to think that it is that that makes McCree go ‘oof’ but he knows that it is more likely his sudden weight on the Omega’s back.

“Lazy bastard!” he hisses at him, hand grabbing at McCree’s hair, pulling his head back roughly as he starts pounding him again. The position is a bit awkward; not suited for a punishing rhythm, but he somehow makes it work.

“Can feel me now?” Hanzo can feel himself wanting to go cross-eyed. The Omega’s pheromones are overpowering; thick, stinking the place up and making it difficult to breathe.

“Yeah,” McCree says, but it sounds like he’s amused; like he is humoring the silly Beta that’s trying so badly to fuck him into submission. Hanzo growls, but it has nothing of the deep reverb of an Alpha, and McCree goddamn _coos_ at him.

Hanzo is upset and angry but also still disturbingly _horny_. He clenches his jaw until it hurts. He bites at McCree’s round shoulders, but whatever reaction McCree can dredge the inspiration up to display always feels like a far bigger animal humoring whatever little babe has toddled its way.

Hanzo remembers, as he works away, trying to fuck some kind of genuine, distressed reaction out of the Omega, how distasteful he had found him when arriving at the watchpoint.

Those thoughts of McCree being nothing but an Omega whore that is willing to offer his sloppy, fucked-out body up to anybody. Who wouldn’t mind if one of the younger Alphas spread his legs as he slept and just mounted up.

He remembers his disgust at realizing that those slutty offers were obviously not only for Alphas but just about anybody on base. How he thought that McCree’s behaviour was just dishonorable.

…How that disgust had quickly, and insidiously morphed into an almost sick fascination, and a deep neediness to be included into that large circle of people that McCree would just let mount up and fuck their energy out into the too-welcoming hole he’s so generous with.

And just like that, his anger dissipates, just leaving a strange mix of humiliation and lust in its wake as his sharp thrusts become less punishing and more loose hipped again.

McCree has been offering himself up of his own free will and Hanzo had accepted is the bottom line of it.

McCree hums beneath him. He sounds sleepy, like he’s going to snore any minute while Hanzo is working his cock into him. He probably wouldn’t mind if he put a load into him while he was out cold, and the thought makes him burn hotter.

There is something delicious in the humiliation he feels. Knowing that McCree could barely even feel him in the loose gape of his hole until he finally managed to warm him up enough.

There’s nothing false about McCree. He’s a whore, a slut, a loose Omega; but he thrives in it, and Hanzo can respect that.


	4. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – age difference; NONCON/DUBCON; victim blaming; slut shaming; forced impregnation – McCree probably has twenty kids in ten different states. He does not know exactly; he usually just fucks then leaves.
> 
> (McCree calls Hanzo a kid a lot but Hanzo is in fact early/mid twenties)

McCree lets his hands wander; up Hanzo’s shins over his knees and to his thighs where he squeezes tight until the young man jerks on his hips.

McCree grins slowly, rolling his hips up once to jostle the kid a little and get him to squeal before he becomes impassive again and lets him clumsily do his thing.

“There you go,” he drawls, playing the deepness and smoothness of his voice up because he’s figured out minutes into their acquaintance that this little pussycat loves listening to him. Hanzo’s nipples become deliciously tight in response. Jesse can play him like a fiddle and he’s not known him for more than a few hours. “Knew you’d be a natural. Not that hard once you get going, hm?”

He shoves his hands farther, rounds the trim young man and grips at his ass. Pulls the cheeks apart until he makes a beautiful little sound and topples forward, just-so bracing himself on McCree’s wide, hairy chest.

“Ah…ah… n-no…”

He’s been haughty and prissy before, but they all cave to a big dick sooner or later. Especially if it’s their first one.

“You love the stretch, don’t you? You take it like a professional.”

The kid is shaking his head but his body says differently. The tight clutch of his little hole is delicious around Jesse’s cock; silky and trembling. It’s almost like he can feel his rapid heart beat around his dick and that’s quite something.

Tight pretty boy just for him to ruin.

To _breed_. The thought alone makes his cock surge and Hanzo, sensitive bitch that he is, moans weakly. He’s still bend over, his face close to Jesse.

He can see the kid’s wet lips tremble as he carefully keeps riding him. He pretends he does not like being called a cockslut but the truth is blatantly obvious. Jesse is not sure why it took him so long until someone put him on their dick but he’s not complaining. He wants to be the first to root around in his hot, trembling insides, and he wants to be the first to get him fat and heavy.

Get ‘em knocked up before leaving town; though he can feel himself wanting to stay with this one a little longer. Even if just to see how good he’s given it to him.

It’s been so easy to convince him to do it without condom in the first place (“‘M gonna pull out before, babydoll. Don’t worry. Just c’mere. Show me that pretty cunt you got…”). He’s been too greedy for cock; too excited to get his little fingers around the fat dick McCree showed him.

“Gonna shoot off, soon,” Jesse murmurs and Hanzo’s whines go a bit more high-pitched, the red on his cheeks intensifiying.

“You’re going to… y-you’re going to pull out, right?” He can barely string the words together. His cock is looking painfully hard, the tip a deep ruddy red. He’s close to coming from nothing but Jesse’s dick because any time he tried to reach for his cock, he’s grabbed at his wrists and pulled them away.

Better start training them as soon as possible.

“Yeah, sure…” he drawls, a grin spreading on his cheeks, easy and self-assured. It’s cute when the kid comes; he mewls prettily, his mouth hanging open, insides squeezing down on Jesse… and he is kitten weak, helpless to being flipped over, legs spread wide as McCree grabs him by the ankles and starts pounding into him, sweat beading on his forehead.

Hanzo cries out with every sharp thrust; over sensitive, though his cock does not seem to want to stop dribbling come.

“Gonna shoot, babydoll,” Jesse grunts, orgasm brewing in his pelvis, the thought of having molded this unused bitch on his cock just adding to the pleasure. He imagines shooting deep into him; feeding his womb directly so no matter how deep he sticks the fucking shower head there’s no way he’ll get all of his cream out.

“Pull out,” Hanzo whines, his dark eyes glassy, cock still drooling, and it occurs to McCree that he is _still coming_ like a good little slut.

“No way, babe. Can’t do. Not now.”

He pounds him through it, using the kid’s fucked-out weakness to grab his hands when they start hitting him without coordination and pushing them above his head. Pinning him down with his girth he grinds his dick deep until he imagines he can feel knocking on that snug little opening to his womb.

Hanzo gasps and grinds out a litany of ‘nonono’s and then Jesse is coming, shooting off deep into that warm, welcoming body. Distantly he hears the kid gurgling, legs twitching and jerking as he comes _again_.

Comes from his own forceful impregnation like the slut he is.

McCree rides the euphoric high until it finally abates, then rolls off of him with a grunt. He stares at the dumfounded face and grins sleepily, patting Hanzo’s flat belly.

“Been a good lay. Want some money?”

He figures the kid must be poor or something. He’s picked him up in a dingy bar; though he had smelled nice enough. Hanzo just stares at him, the flush high on his cheeks, seemingly shocked into silence from what just happened.

McCree grunts and digs in his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled dollar bill and tucks it into the kid’s used-up hole to stave off the lazy trickle of cum. He pats Hanzo’s leg and starts putting on his things. He needs a drink before he’s going to fuck him again. He’s pretty sure the kid will be up for a second round; he does not look like he entirely hated it.

He has no idea Hanzo is the heir of an old Yakuza clan.


	5. McCree/Reyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McReyes – demons; massive cock; blood; watersports – Jesse thinks he can be sneaky about what he wants. Gabriel shows him that he is not… and that he might have bitten off more than he can chew.

Jesse is still young for a demon and Gabriel is just lenient enough to let him get away with a lot of shit, but even he has his limits.

Like when he can feel the insidious tendrils of Jesse’s lust licking at his consciousness as he’s getting scolded for his gluttony regarding the humans. Gabriel’s eyes narrow, his tail lashing through the air in agitation, and Jesse’s grin becomes a bit nervous as he stands up a tad straighter.

He’s been caught and he knows it.

Gabriel uncrosses his legs and stands, talons digging into the ground.

“I guess you need a more… hands-on demonstration of who is in charge here…”

Jesse does not quite cower back, but he winces. He does not look too happy but his cock is already interested – no surprise there; Jesse is an insatiable incubus – and curves up towards his belly by the time Gabriel his made his way down, towering over him by a good head.

He reaches out and digs one clawed hand into Jesse’s hair, pulling his head back and peering into his face from above, his glowing eyes narrowing in consideration.

“Has it been a mistake, making you into one of mine?” he muses. Jesse’s face twists and he shakes his head as well as he can while other demons start rounding them with interest. While Gabriel still stares at him, he can feel a curious brush of fingers against his inhumanly big cock. It looks sleek to the eye, but of course Jesse’s clever hands find one of the many ridges in no time, teasing his fingertip beneath.

Gabriel’s nostrils flare and he rips Jesse’s head farther back until he is forced to go onto his knees.

“Incorrigible slut,” he hisses but Jesse is a natural at what he’s doing and it might just be a compliment to him.

It occurs to him, halfway through forcing his cock down the incubus’ throat, that this might have been just what Jesse has been angling for. He’s a slut and he’s greedy, and those human cocks can’t even hope to satisfy him and fill his belly the way he needs it.

Right now he looks as ecstatic as can be, eyes glistening, gurgling and choking as the cock is rammed down his throat where it would do irreparable damage to a lesser life form. As is, Jesse’s body can just about adjust; make himself into a living, breathing cock sleeve for his master’s entertainment.

Gabriel wishes this was a more effective punishment, but he has a soft spot for Jesse. He is cunning and uninhibited. A perfect little demon… if he would just follow orders as was expected of him.

Gabriel has him between his legs, fucking down into his throat, into his belly, feeling beneath his sharp claws how grotesquely the other demon’s throat is bulging around the massive cock splitting him open. He gurgles every time Gabriel pulls back and the frills along his shaft flare open; and when Gabriel finally pulls out, he can feel Jesse’s teeth scrape deliciously against each and every single one when they get caught behind them inevitably.

He mounts him, then; still not satisfied now that he’s been roused. It is difficult, usually, to get him to rise to any bait, but Jesse usually manages it without fail just through sheer insolence. The _daring_ of trying to put his superior under his thrall.

Jesse howls when he fucks into him. He claws at the dirty ground, trying to crawl back off his cock, but Gabriel grabs him at his leathery wings and pulls him back unto the dick ruining his insides. Blood is spilling, but that is only making it _better_. They all love the smell of blood. The taste of it. And around them, the lesser demons are getting excited, drawing closer as Gabriel lays into Jesse, using his wings as makeshift leads to pull him onto his dick again and again.

It does not take long for the incubus to get into it. He’s still whining and sniffling about the rough treatment but he can’t deny that his belly is full. That Gabriel damn near wears him like a suit. Gabriel conjures mirrors, watching Jesse’s belly bulge from every angle; watching his cock bob and dribble into the sand beneath them.

“Not so rough,” Jesse demands, voice a bit weepy, trying to twist away. Gabriel takes his wings into one hand to have the other free, digging sharp claws into the small of his back as his tail lashes behind him.

“You get what I give you,” he growls, voice deeper; more hellish. His balls hit Jesse with meaty slaps; they are full to the brim, promising to fill Jesse up until it’ll dribble back out his nose, and Jesse seems to slowly realize that as well. He squirms more. He pants like a slut on his dick, but he’s also subtly trying to get away.

Only when Gabriel’s tail comes forward, the sharp tip of it teasing at Jesse’s bloody hole, trying to force its way inside, does the other demon finally give up.

His hot piss hits the ground in a hard stream. He whimpers pathetically, putting his face into the dirt; groveling, pissing himself, begging for mercy like one of the lesser demons around them would have done.

Hoping against hope that Gabriel will have mercy on him. It would not be much of a lesson, though, if Gabriel wouldn’t make it _memorable_.


	6. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McHanzo – rape tw; faux beasitality; cow!McCree – Jesse turns the tables on Hanzo and Hanzo is a sick fuck that loves it.

Maybe it is because of Jesse’s gentle, sometimes even downright lazy disposition that Hanzo had not thought much of precautions. Of course he’s heard the tales of farmers getting overpowered by their amorous cattle, but… well.

He’d always fancied himself as being the one who mounts… not the one being pressed down by considerable weight, struggling not to be crushed beneath his cow while Jesse very determinedly fucks against him and gets the backs of his thighs slippery with whatever liquid his cock is so generously producing.

Maybe somewhere in the dull head it had occurred to Jesse that being mounted by his farmer whenever he pleased was not something he desired. Or Hanzo’s incessant rutting into his buttery soft hole had awakened the cow’s lustful side, though he’d never shown as much, preferring to keep munching on whatever’s in front of his nose.

Whatever it had been, it didn’t matter much now; not when Hanzo has to taste his own medicine and be mounted and fucked by his cow without a consideration for his own desires.

As he scrambles at the side of the barn, trying to find some way to place his hands and at least brace himself against Jesse’s heavy weight, it occurs to him, that he is effectively being raped by his own goddamn cow.

And that he is turned on by it to a sickening degree. He is panting already, heavy and wet, his cock straining against the front of his overalls als he whispers – very quiet and not forceful at all – “No.. don’t… you can’t…”

Jesse, of course, does not understand. He is single minded. His cock is hard and he wants a nice warm hole to stick it into, and he thinks this warm hole might just be found between his farmer’s now trembling legs.

Every now and then the silky hot head of Jesse’s long dick is brushing the back of Hanzo’s knee, and he gets nauseous with how much he wants that thing rammed into him.

He wishes the short pants of his overalls were wide enough to just tug them to the side, but as is, they stretch tight around his thick thighs.

So he has to fumble with the fastenings one handed, whispering “wait wait wait…” when Jesse starts becoming impatient and shoves himself farther up his back. Everything is hot and heavy and Hanzo can barely think through the fog in his head.

Finally, his overall slides down more or less. He stands in an awkward half-crouch, overall bunched around mid-thighs, naked safe for the rubber boots he has donned. No underwear, of course, because Hanzo is a dirty cow fucker that likes having access whenever the mood strikes, and his own whorishness makes his cock surge and dribble.

Jesse is still rutting, fucking, trying to find the hole – and when he suddenly finds it, he _pushes_.

Hanzo cries out when the cow tries to force his way into a hole way too small, tears springing up in his eyes.

“No…no…” he whispers half-heartedly, one trembling hand travelling down. Jesse’s next thrust has him collapsing against the side of the barn, cheek mashed into the rough wood. He gets his hand around his dick while he tries to shuffle his legs farther apart. Make more room for the fat cock spreading him open. He can’t make more room, effectively hobbled by his own overall.

Getting raped by his own cow against the side of his barn and loving every second of it. His insides feel painfully hot; like Jesse is fucking fire into his belly.

From behind he can only hear the animalistic grunts of the cow; feel the slobber dripping against the nape of his neck and sliding down between his shoulder blades.

Jesse jerks forward, fucking deeper into Hanzo’s belly, and the farmer sobs, coming in a long, hard spasm that makes his knees almost buckle.

Jesse fucks slow and clumsy. He does not really rut; just pushes himself deeper and deeper, the exertion clear as he pants hot and wet into Hanzo’s ear. Only when he’s stuffed all of his cock into his belly does he groan long and drawn out. Stops all his movements and just lays on Hanzo’s back while his cock seems to do its own thing; flexing and swelling and strangely moving inside Hanzo’s abused guts.

Hanzo’s legs are shaking. Jesse is heavy and makes him bear all of his weight. He sees him as nothing but a warm hole to inseminate, and it shows.

Hanzo wonders blearily whether this will happen again and again from now on. Jesse turning the tables on them and fucking him whenever his mood strikes. Hanzo can feel his cock jerking again in his slippery grip. Copious amounts of fluid are dripping out of his raw, fucked-out hole as he fantasizes about becoming his cow’s little fuck doll.

Making sure he’s wearing clothes that can be shoved aside for easy access…

He is sick, sick, sick, sick. This should not be so hot. This should not make him shoot of a second time already, splattering the dusty ground between his boots with his cum.

He shouldn’t get off so hard on being raped by his cow; but he is.


	7. Zarya/Reaper/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarya/76/Gabriel – femdom; pegging; praise kink; body/muscle appreciation; manhandling – Zarya is still so young but she’s got those two old men wrapped around her fingers.

Gabriel makes like pulling away, but only so that Zarya has to curl her big hand around his ankle and pull him back down the bed with a kind of ease that has his stomach tied in knots and the good Soldier’s mouth drop open while he palms his cock.

Zarya chuckles, curling an arm around one of Gabriel’s massive thighs and manhandling him until he’s on his side, leg helplessly hooked around the bend of her elbow.

“How naughty,” she purrs at him. She shuffles closer, fingers of her other hand tickling his well-lubed hole. “Somebody is yearning for a bit of rough, mayhaps?”

Gabriel scowls fiercely but his already dark cheeks are going even darker with a flush. His brown eyes are glittering as he looks back at her, glancing at the strong line of her jaw to the wide set of her shoulders. He stares at her biceps, and quickly looks away again – caught looking – when she flexes for him.

Zarya hums and shuffles closer. She has a gorgeous cock strapped on for them; long and a bit fatter than usual, though not as girthy as what either of them has packing.

She takes herself in hand and starts dragging the mostly featureless tip against the nice little snatch Gabriel has offered up before nerves got to him and he tried to be cheeky.

The good Soldier is watching from the sidelines, gloriously naked and cock in hand; eyes travelling as much across Gabriel’s thick, meaty muscles as they are tracing Zarya and her effortless dominance she reigns over them.

They’ve sparred beforehand just to feel how easily she can put the old men on their back. Maybe spread their legs and push their knees up to their shoulders just to humiliate them; let them see how her youth and strength can overpower them and make them her bitches.

They’re all sweaty and pungent; and while they are fighting against a gentle, lazy kind of lethargy, Zarya looks like she’s just begun.

She straddles the leg still stretched out on the bed, hooks Gabriel’s leg across her shoulder to have her arms free, then pushes in. Her tits sway with the motion and both men immediately stare at them.

She’s got a scar slashed across her right breast, nearly hitting her nipple. She does not look like a mom, but they both want to nurse anyway.

Zarya is surprisingly nurturing. Maybe she just gets off on making them feel smaller than they are. More helpless than they are. Jack does not quite know, nor does he care.

Gabriel sighs as she starts to easily fuck him, and Jack startles when her hand curls around his ankle, not unlike she did moments before with Gabriel, and easily pulls him closer across the already rumpled sheets.

He could kick at her and try to squirm away, but it would be futile. The thought excites him inordinately and by the glazed, needy look on Gabriel’s face, he feels the same.

They are nothing but Zarya’s toy boys and… it feels good. She manhandles him until he’s where she wants him; stretched out next to her other boy close enough that she can curl her wide palm around his cock. She has big hands, but they are still pretty looking. She likes painting her nails in bright, happy colors.

Jack has his hands unthinkingly curled against his shoulders, looking up at Zarya with heavy lidded eyes and breathing deeply. Zarya glances at him, and her face goes all soft and warm.

“Little kitten,” she purrs and he flushes dark and humiliated. He is old enough to be her father, but something about this woman makes him feel small and helpless… but protected.

She stems them around if she wants to, but he’s yet to have her actually hurt any of them. He does not think she has it in her.

Zarya leans forward some, squeezing Jack’s cock as she picks up her pace. Gabriel stretches for her and bares his throat, groaning deep in his chest when her cock slides deep and easy. Jack could lean forward and bite at his shoulders and neck. Lick at his salt-and-pepper beard.

But he can’t take his eyes off of Zarya’s swaying tits and the hard muscles of her belly, visibly contracting with every thrust forward.

She has a gorgeous cunt hidden beneath the harness she’s wearing. It’s cute and small, hidden beneath a downy soft thatch of garishly dyed pubes. It’s kept just as meticulously perfect as the rest of her body. Maybe she’ll open her thick thighs for them later. Let them fuck her slow and easy, or eat her out with their noses buried in her pink hair.

She’s easy for them; stroking their egos by coming quick and beautiful with little incentive given. It’s the only testament to her youth; to how she’s been shunned by weak boys who were intimidated by her. Her body is deliciously sensitive and they love exploiting it. Have her thighs nearly bust their skulls when she loses control and comes so hard she almost squirts.

They are very determined to make up for lost time.

“You are such good boys today,” she purrs, her accent getting their nipples tight and excited. They’ve been primed to her voice to an embarrassing degree. “I don’t think at all you want to play rough today. I think you want to be good boys that get treats…”

Gabriel groans and throws one arm across his eyes so it’s harder for them to see his flush. Jack breathes deeply and nods quick and a bit overeager when Zarya looks questioningly at him. Then she smiles.


	8. Zenyatta/Lúcio/(Reaper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio/Zenyatta/Reaper(or anonymous slime monster) – Satyr!Lucio and Zenyatta; rape/rape play; dub con/non-con; tentacle sex; belly bulge – Lúcio and Zenyatta get so much more than they hoped for.

They knew they weren’t allowed to wander this deep into the forest, but the danger has only made it more enticing, and daring each other top hop deeper has been way too easy.

Sooner rather than later they’ve resorted to holding hands and staying close as they make their way through an underbrush too thick to hop any longer. They have to carefully place their small hoofs so their dainty fetters don’t get caught in the insidious vines curling about, but they’re still in good spirits.

The fear they feel is electrifying and keeps them alert, their long ears flicking around to listen to the crack of tree branches and the thump of other inhabitants walking around.

Every now and then Lúcio giggles nervously, pushing himself more into Zenyatta’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should go back now,” he whispers when it becomes clear that the encroaching darkness becomes thicker and thicker. They both have grown up in the forest, but neither can tell whether the darkness comes from the slowly setting sun or the woods themselves.

They’re a bit disappointed. The tales of the elders – meant as a warning but only stirring their nervous desire – have been keeping them on track for the most part. It seems, however, that the others have been wrong: there are no monsters in the deep forest that are just waiting to defile and wreck supple satyr fawns.

They glance at each other, cheeks flushed, and finally Zenyatta stops and sighs.

“Yes. We should go back.” He squeezes Lúcio’s hand: a promise for them to play afterwards and make up for the disappointment – when suddenly the predator that has been following them for a couple hours makes his presence known.

.o.

It’s exactly what they’ve been angling for, but actually being wrapped up in slimy tentacles, no way to escape their slippery, unrelenting halt, is… quite scary.

They bleat at each other in distress, held apart just enough that they can watch but not touch, and the monster that has them in their grasp chuckles.

“What tasty little toys,” it purrs. There are a few mouths and a hundred eyes appearing and disappearing in the black mass that has come out of the underbrush. There are so many sharp teeth, but none of them have nipped at their kicking flanks yet.

“So… juicy…” Black tendrils curl around Lúcio’s thighs – plumper than Zenyatta’s – and pull them apart until Zenyatta can just about see the tender pink of his hole hidden in chocolate brown fur.

They’re manhandled around, dainty fetters restrained and pulled apart at the creature’s leisure who seems very interested in those hidden, warm little spaces beneath their fluffy tails.

Their arms have been twisted against their backs as they are suspended in the air, close enough to feel each other’s breaths on their faces and see their hot, embarrassed flushes as slick tendrils begin pushing into them sleek and without hindrance.

Soon enough they are bleating for whole different reasons: their guts filled with the writhing, undulating mass, holes spread wider than they’ve ever been before as they get rocked in their tethers by the creatures amorous thrusts.

There’s drool slicking from the corner of Zenyatta’s mouth, and Lúcio’s cherry red tongue is lolling against his chin. Their fur is a wet, sticky mess from the monster sliding across every inch of their bodies.

“Ah… p-please… mercy,” Zenyatta whimpers when he feels like there is no way he’ll fit even one more inch inside him. He feels like the creature must have advanced right into his belly. Whenever he looks down, he can see the grotesque bulge there; how he looks like he’s carrying two, if not three little fawns.

It is scary.

And so… _good_ …

The creature around them just chuckles. A few mouths appear, grinning wide, then disappear. There are always eyes watching them greedily.

“No more!” Lúcio cries out suddenly, struggling anew. Zenyatta, glancing at him with a feverish stare, can see how new tentacles have started parting the thick fur on his companion’s crotch; showing off his sleek, dark red cock and the tight, furry balls beneath. When the tentacles start caressing him there, Lúcio sobs, helplessly bucking into the touch.

Trying to fuck it.

As Zenyatta stares, he can feel the same happening to him.

They are so desperately, intimately full, they feel like the creature will spill back out of their mouths any second now, and still it is stuffing more and more inside of them, fucking them, bouncing them on itself and ruining their tight little holes with its insane stretch.

They bleat weak and pathetic, a flush of humiliation and lust hot on their cheeks. They come so easy for it, even as they beg for mercy and to be released; creamy little loads coating the thick fur on their thighs; one, two, three until they start sobbing in earnest, feeling like their hearts might explode from the stress.

They like playing with each other; sticking a face beneath the other’s perky tail to lap and suck at him until he comes, purring and soft; doing it again and again until they’re sticky and sated… but they’ve never been this… debauched. This… relentless. They’ve never been _fucked_ before; used like warm sleeves and nothing but breeding mares.

It will be long until the black mass shudders and starts pumping them full. Even longer until they can stumble their shameful way back into their home, their bellies still so round with the creature’s load sloshing in their guts…


	9. Bakugo/Deku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BakuDeku – direct sequel to some ramblings that are posted below + prompt – puppy play; rough treatment; watersports; dominance display; restraints – Deku needs to establish who is top dog.
> 
> First prompt and ramblings, then continuation

"I AM HERE FOR PUPPY BAKUGOU. I love your petplay stuff in general. But the thought of Deku training bakugou is choice. Like outwardly nervous, but later, you know kacchan is going on a ride."

omg right

Deku nervously stuttering and barely daring to touch Bakugo because he’s being a little bastard and is growling and snapping at Deku’s fingers. I mean like… goood yess…

They had both agreed to it, somehow, but Midoriya was having second thoughts now whether Bakugo actually wants to try being a puppy or just wanted an opportunity to bite him.

He is crouching on the floor, back round, shoulders up, growling in a low, frightening cadence that grows the closer Midoriya tries to come, voice shaking, fingers trembling.

“C-Come on. Be… be a good puppy, now, okay? K-Kacchan?”

It doesn’t work, obviously, because Bakugo is difficult and Midoriya has no authoritative bone in his body. Still, it hurts to see the bitter, resignated hurt on Bakugo’s face when he has to step back and lean over, taking deep, shuddering breaths because Midoriya doesn’t think for a second that Bakugo wouldn’t bite him viciously if he got close enough.

They don’t talk about it, and Bakugo leaves shortly after, very quiet and very grumpy looking.

Midoriya wonders what he wants from him; that of course he wouldn’t damn touch him if he was acting like a feral wolf. He couldn’t just… just force him to play along…

Midoriya stares ahead at the door Bakugo had left through, deep in thoughts as something clicks inside his head.

When Bakugo visits him the next time, he is not prepared for Midoriya’s hand on his throat, slamming him against the closed door.

“I want to play again,” he tells him in no uncertain terms before Bakugo can shake off his surprise. He sounds a lot more firm and sure than he actually feels. He wonders if Bakugo feels how sweaty his hand is, but if he does, he doesn’t comment on it for once. Rather, he squints at Midoriya, upper lip twitching in a confused snarl.

“What?”

“I want to play again. Go and be a good puppy in he living room.” His hand slides around, gripping the back of Bakugo’s neck rudely; shoves him away from the door and towards the living room.

“Go.”

Bakugo rolls his head around his neck, lifts his shoulders, tugs on the sleeves of his jacket. He glances back at Midoriya, an unholy expression on his face as he starts grinning.

“You want to play, Deku? Want to fail again?” He turns away, starts making his way towards the room. “No skin off my nose.”

He is being flippant about it, but Midoriya can tell he is trying to figure out what’s different this time; why good old, fumbling, stuttering, too-good-for-this-world Deku is acting the way he does.

Midoriya doesn’t intent to let him get his footing back. Having Bakugo off-balance is the only way for him to make this work.

He hides the muzzle behind his back for the longest time, forcing his legs to make step after step towards the feral creature Bakugo has become in the few minutes he’s left him alone. 

When he pulls it out, there’s a stutter in Bakugo’s growl, his head snaps up, confusion on his face, staring at the device, and Midoriya pounces, putting the muzzle in place, and snapping the clasp shut just on the tail end of Bakugo’s first furious headshake.

He steps back hurriedly, watching as Bakugo gets up from his crouch to stand on all fours, shaking his head viciously left to right, trying to shake the muzzle loose. 

Midoriya’s first fear – that Bakugo would use his hands to get the muzzle off – is dashed when his puppy puts his head to the ground and tries to push the straps off with hands held as paws.

Midoriya’s heart finally starts to slow down from the mad dash. He admits freely that he is still very much afraid of Bakugo, but having him muzzled and obviously willing to play along is doing wonders for him.

He slowly sits down, watching Bakugo growl and try desperately to get the muzzle off.

Midoriya is patient, however. He is willing to wait his Bakugo’s temper tantrum out and start training the feral pup properly.

.o.

cont.

There’s saliva dripping to the floor as Bakugo sits back on his heels, head hung low, chest pumping as he pants. He’s been trying for a while with more and more desperation to get the muzzle off but nothing has worked.

Midoriya has been sitting on his hands for the better part, less he’d give in and help his puppy out of the restraint. When Bakugo glances up at him, he quickly schools his expression into something hard and neutral.

There’s sweat beading along Bakugo’s hair line. There’s no doubt his hands are just as damp, but there’s no sign of him using his quirk. He looks like he’s absolutely hating every second of what’s happening to him, but he’s not using any of the outs available to him.

When he seems to have caught his breath, he throws himself into the second round: putting himself flat on the ground and using his curled-up hands to try and push the muzzle off of his face.

Midoriya watches him for a while before deciding that he’s been playing at being a brat for long enough.

He stands abruptly. That gets Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes look murderous as he stares warily at Midoriya, but he does not back away when he starts to advance on him.

He bares his teeth and growls ferociously as Midoriya squats in front of him, but that is all.

“Good boy,” Midoriya murmurs and pats his head. There’s no hesitation there. His face is set in grim determination. Bakugo stills for a second, his eyes holding a curious squinting expression as he seems to think things through.

Then he pushes his head into Midoriya’s palm.

.o.

It is not like he’s capitulated; he’s just shifted tactics. Bakugo is a wily little pup. One that has been horribly spoiled up until now; and while Midoriya does not know whether he’ll be able to train him, he is at least willing to try.

Bakugo might have thought he’d quickly lull him into getting the muzzle off of him, because when Midoriya does not do so and instead divests his puppy of his clothes to get his hand on his dick – already standing at attention; as ruddy red as Bakugo’s neck becomes when he’s screaming his head off in rage – he starts becoming rude again.

He snaps at Midoriya, then, when Midoriya doesn’t so much as flinch, tries to headbutt him.

That earns him a big, rough hand in his neck almost slamming his face into the floor.

Midoriya is on him a heartbeat later, his knee digging between Bakugo’s shoulder blades.

“ _Bad_ boy, Kacchan,” he hisses. He fumbles with something Bakugo can’t see and a moment later, he collars him with a wide strip of leather. “You’re not getting a treat like this!”

He pulls him roughly at the collar and Bakugo has to scramble to follow, lest he’ll be choked. He’s off-balance, trying to figure out Midoriya’s next move, but since he’s not behaving like usual, he does not have any frame of reference to go on.

“I think you need to understand who is in charge here, Kacchan,” Midoriya says ominously, his voice wavering only slightly.They’re in the bathroom now, and Bakugo starts vaguely panicking, but his uncoordinated attempts at bracing himself on the slick tiles are thwarted by Midoriya simply dragging him along with a hand around his collar.

He shoves him into the shower stall, and stares down at his puppy. Bakugo’s red eyes are wide, his mouth behind the muzzle a soft ‘o’ of surprise as he just watches Midoriya fumble with his pants.

He can feel his ears slowly starting to grow hot. He can’t look into Bakugo’s eyes when he pulls his cock out, but then kicks himself mentally and takes a deep breath. He has to be dominant.

He has to be dominant.

He has to be dominant.

“ _I_ am the one in charge, Kacchan,” he tells him with a firm voice. “You have to behave.”

As Bakugo stares at him, confused and a bit frightened – and God… it should not turn him on so much – he realizes he’s still hard; his gorgeous cock still standing at attention for Midoriya. Deku.

Bakugo is too surprised to do anything when the piss hits him first. He jerks and makes a weird whining sound, almost questioning, but does nothing else. Then the situation seems to click and he wants to… do _something_ , squirm away maybe, but Deku has his hand around his collar again in no time.

He twists until Bakugo has to follow it, one shoulder tilting towards the ground, the other up; face inevitably turning right into the hot spray of piss as Deku holds him in place and makes him take it.

He can see the absolute shock and disgust in Bakugo’s face, but when the warm liquid starts pooling in his crotch, his hips make a canine jerk upwards and his eyes become unfocused.

“There you go,” Midoriya croons under his breath, his face probably ridiculously hot. “There’s a good puppy. I’ll make sure you know who owns you…”

He stares at Bakugo’s mouth; pink and soft and slack. He thinks about him being better behaved; of being able to take the muzzle off of him so he can drag his face between his thighs and have him rim him like a good puppy.

When he’s done, it is very quiet in the bathroom, safe for both their heavy breathing. Kacchan’s eyes are heavy lidded. He looks absolutely out of it.

Eventually, he leans forward and starts nuzzling against Deku’s soft, spent dick.


	10. McCree/Hanzo/Reaper/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo/Reyes/Morrison – virgin!McCree; chubby!McCree; premature ejaculation; body worship; chub appreciation; self-loathing in the beginning – McCree has stumbled into the clutches of three horny, hungry men.

He doesn’t know how he’s stumbled his way into this situation. He doesn’t know how to get out of it again, either. Hanzo is at his left, Morrison at his right, and the goddamn _Commander_ is down at his knee level, looking like a big, dangerous cat as he grins up at him wide and lowers his head, cheek rubbing against the bulge straining in Jesse’s jeans.

“Always wanted to get my fingers on that gorgeous fat cock,” he purrs.

Jesse gurgles something. His belly twists uncomfortably at the word _fat_ but his cock is too nervously excited by the proceedings. He swallows and struggles half-heartedly, trying to pull his arms out of the grip Hanzo and Morrison have on him.

He feels like a bug wiggling on his back. A fat bug. He glances around at the tightly muscled bodies around him, then back at Reyes whose face is half-hidden behind the roll of chub spilling above Jesse’s jeans.

He swallows and closes his eyes tightly. He’s only wanted to give them his report and be on his way. He hadn’t meant to barge right into the hot and heavy make-out session between the three.

“I ah…”

He makes a high-pitched, pathetic sound as he feels Reyes open his pants. He sucks his belly in and feels his cheeks go a dark, ruddy red under his unkempt beard.

“I can go again,” he offers and Morrison laughs next to him, deep and rough.

“Oh no… we want you to _come_.” Hanzo huffs on the other side, sounding annoyed by the pun. His dark eyes are sharp like a bird of prey’s, taking in Jesse’s pathetic body and he feels sick with it until his cock is out and Reyes makes a sound like he’s dying and loving every second of it.

“Goddamn it’s good. Fuck… Been waiting for years for this…”

Jesse wheezes as Reyes’ mouth shoves over the crown of his cock, wet and hot and silky. He jerks again, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Reyes sucks, and Jesse, pathetically, humiliatingly comes without fanfare. One second he’s shaking in Morrison’s and Shimada’s grip, the next his hips are lifting up and Reyes makes a sound of surprise as hot, thick cum splashes against his tongue.

There’s a ringing in Jesse’s ears and it takes him a while to realize that everything has become deathly silent. When he opens his eyes, all three men are staring at him with wide eyes.

He pulls his hand out of Morrison’s slack grip and lets it slap against his face.

“Shit…” he mumbles. He does not know what he expects them to do next. Definitely not them crawling all over him, their mouths wet and needy as they suck at his soft tits and bite against the chub on his hips.

“Damn that was hot… fuck… you’re so sensitive, aren’t you?”

He can’t make out who said it. It could’ve been Morrison; might have even been Reyes. There are hands between his legs, urging them apart, kneading his thick thighs until the big muscles there jump.

Someone is at his balls, weighing their heft and feeling how big and full they still are.

They don’t ask him, thankfully, though that might just mean it is glaringly, pathetically obvious: Jesse McCree’s still a virgin. His cock is big and fat still, drooling against his belly until someone pulls it up and pushes their greedy, wet mouth across it.

He whines and arches. He wants to feel humiliated as someone squeezes his soft, chubby tits and pushes them together like a pair of breasts, but they sound just as fucked out as he does; murmuring feverishly about how hot he is; how nice his dick is; how good it feels in their greedy hands and greedier mouths.

“Could fuck those tits…” that was Morrison.

There’s a tongue at his balls and when Jesse makes himself look down, Shimada has switched places with Reyes and is nuzzling and sucking at the large testicles; testing how loose they are in the silky skin.

Jesse thinks he must be dreaming… or dying. He bucks helplessly and Reyes has mercy on him; provides him with his greedy, hot mouth to fuck into.

The thought makes Jesse’s brain stall. He is fucking someone. His dick is in a warm, welcoming hole and he’s fucking, however inexpert, into it; taking what he wants.

Reyes sounds about as delirious as Jesse feels. Like he’s the one allowed to nervously rabbit-fuck into his first soft orifice instead of Jesse, whose brain is feeling liquid by now.

Morrison is lowering himself, his rough fingers pinching at Jesse’s fat, sensitive nipples, making his trembling mouth drop open in a wordless cry.

He bends down, noses at Jesse’s hot flushed ear and murmurs: “Pretty little virgin, aren’t’cha?”

And Jesse comes again into Reyes’ mouth; all across his hot, clever tongue, and Hanzo curses low, his silky voice gone rough and deep. Jesse can hear an indistinct: “Just ten minutes… my God…”

But it does not make much sense. Not when there’s a hand on his twitching sac, lovingly cradling it as if it wants to help him push out all that thick creamy cum stored in there.

Someone is grabbing at his belly, digging their fingers into the chub, and for once in his life it is not followed by a wave of self-loathing anxiety.

He almost sobs.


End file.
